My first sponsorship experience was prison sponsorship. I was skeptical about reaching out and sponsoring others, but my sponsor kept pushing me. “Carry the message. Carry the message. Carry the message.” He’d repeat that over and over and over.

I was desperate for recovery and uncertain about my capabilities. Having had encounters with the legal process myself and knowing friends in the program going through their own, this opportunity stood out to me. It felt … safer—strange as that may seem.

In my first letter I used a lot of the wording from example letters my local coordinator sent me. The letter I received back was raw and honest, and changed the way I thought of recovery.

When my first sponsee mailed his letter back, I read it, then re-read it. He spoke candidly of his early childhood, the pain he’d caused and experienced, and the events leading up to his incarceration. I was uncomfortable, but couldn’t understand why. I’d heard hundreds of similar stories from other sexaholics in the rooms.

I called my sponsor and, as we talked through it, I realized that I identified with my sponsee much more than I wanted to. So many of his experiences mirrored my own. The only difference was that I was fortunate enough to have alternate circumstances. That was all.

One of my temptations in recovery is to think, “I’m reaching down to help someone else.” In reality, I’m reaching across—not up or down—to share my newfound humanity with another person. I’m no better than a single person on this planet. Prison sponsorship regularly reminds me of that fact.

Whatever terminology society wants to use for that person—felon, convict, inmate, offender, etc.—doesn’t really matter. That person is human. That person is me. Understanding that has changed the way I see people. Weirdly enough, sponsoring some of my friends in prison gave me the courage to sponsor members outside of prison.

I still sponsor friends in prison. Sometimes communication is slow. Sometimes it fails completely and we lose touch. But more often than not, someone’s life is changed just like mine was, and another person who was lost finds his way. I’m grateful for all my friends in prison who have helped me with my recovery and humanity.